


The Execution

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [24]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Execution, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mild Language, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the morning of Rukia's execution, and her friends try desperately to save her. Meanwhile, the true criminals of Soul Society surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Execution

Weary. He is entirely too weary. The day rages on and into an even more exasperating evening. Everything is falling to pieces. Inch by inch, it begins to unravel until he is begging for thread, thread that no longer exists, thread that has come undone.

The chill of his wake spreads through the manor. His presence has caused a fine frenzy among the servants. Looks of horror beget groveling and high-pitched whimpers. He cannot suffer the sheer ineptitude that surrounds him; it threatens to smother him.

The first failing continues to needle him: The guards allowed an interloper onto the property after his express and  _explicit_  instructions to the contrary. Granted, that particular interloper was a Captain and a mentor. A  _former_ mentor.

The second failing was allowing the Lady of the House to escape. How did Hisana managed such a feat? It is an enigma that he is still attempting to solve. He has an inkling of how she  _might have_  escaped—through the underground tunnels—but the problem with this hypothesis is that, to his knowledge, his wife does not know of the subterranean labyrinth that stretches below the manor. He has never made mention of the hypogeal corridors, and none of the servants would have either. Only a few very trusted and very loyal retainers even know.

Quietly, with his steward trailing behind him, he traces his way to the room, where he swiftly peels back the false wall that hides an entrance into the tunnels. Without a word, he steps back and waits for the steward to shed the lantern light into the dark, dusky halls.

It takes him one look to fit together the missing piece of his hypothesis. That missing piece has a name.  _Yachiru_.

If Hisana learned of the underground system, it was because of that infernal child.

"Lord Kuchiki?" a quivering feminine voice fills the spacious chamber, and he turns to find a doe-eyed maid standing behind the room's threshold. Clenched tightly in her hand is a small note, a message.

He gives her a beseeching stare, and she bows, low, and speaks her purpose to the floorboards. "Lord Kuchiki," she begins, trying to tame her anxiety, "it is from the Sixth's Shirogane. She says Hisana arrived at the Sixth, where she sought out Vice Captain Abarai."

He lifts his head at this, but his concern never bleeds through his austere façade. "Is she in good condition?"

The maid shakes her head. "There is no mention of the Lady's condition, milord. No mention at all." She then cups her hand over her mouth and gives a small mewl into her palm.

Without a thought or word to spare, he makes great haste toward the Sixth.

"Where is she?" he asks the moment he locates Mihane in the Sixth's central office.

The girl blinks a few times, as if she is attempting to replay his question.

"My wife?"

"She's speaking with Vice Captain Abarai."

"In the jails?"

Mihane gives a slight nod of her head. Desperately, she attempts to read her captain's expression. His voice is even, but he isn't in control. He hasn't been in control of his heart. Not since he stepped across the threshold to his division. Perhaps, he lost it before then. Maybe he never had it all.

Immediately, he turns in the direction of Renji's cellblock with Mihane following close behind.

"Abarai was not permitted any visitors," he murmurs, voice wintry.

"But, Lady Kuchiki mentioned that she had military authorization to speak with Vice Captain Abarai given her status as a member of your House, Captain Kuchiki."

He descries Mihane over his shoulder. What is she talking about? Hisana has no standing among the ranks. Her word means nothing in the halls of the Sixth or any of the divisions.

Understanding his puzzled look, Mihane expounds on her previous thoughts. "She cited a code."

"Which code?"

"Section 484-502.9."

 _Fraud_ , he thinks to himself, and he smirks. He isn't sure whether he finds his wife's brazenness amusing or irritating. It matters not, he finally decides, but he grins darkly to himself nonetheless.

Mihane does not understand his expression. She stands dumbfounded, unsure of whether she should continue following after him.

Simplifying her decision, Byakuya issues a biting command, "You are dismissed."

* * *

Renji pauses, mid-step. His body trembles against the suddenness of his stop. The change in his trajectory causes him to skid across the smoothly laid brick pathway; it is the same pathway that leads to Sōkyoku Hill. Heaving a troubled breath, his gaze frantically snaps up. The sun is beginning its ascent against a clear blue sky. Its position has changed, he observes.

Time is slipping through his fingers.

 _'Remember, Renji_ —'

The Powers That Be have rescheduled Rukia's execution  _again_  for  _that morning_. Today is the day that she will be  _murdered_  if he doesn't succeed. He must succeed, he tells himself. He has no other choice, even if he doesn't know  _quite_  what to do with the Shihōin relic, even if he isn't  _quite_  sure if it will work even if he figures it out. There is no other choice.

He simply  _must_.

For Rukia.

He hoists the shield over his head, readjusting his grip. His knuckles go white from tension. Sure, the shield is solid oak and  _heavy as shit_ , but the cramp-inducing strain that locks his muscles isn't from the heft. It's from his anxiety; it is the sort of anxiety that weighs you down quicker than any fancy piece of mystical wood would.

Feeling his heart jump to the pit of his throat, Renji pushes forward. His eyes are trained on the execution site. He can see the stand from where he is. Distance makes it small, but with each step forward it steadily grows larger and closer.

_'—there are forces at play, Renji. Forces that are great—'_

He tucks his chin to his neck as he speeds across the cobblestones. His breath is caught tightly in his chest, and his heart refuses to beat, now. The prospect of arriving a moment too late crushes him, turning his thoughts dark and cold. He cannot fail. Not now. Not Rukia.

He simply  _must_.

_'—these forces rely on strong illusions—'_

He can almost hear the sounding of drums. War drums. The noise is faint, a mere whisper to him, now. But, the pounding intensifies with each stroke of the second hand. The air around him feels electrified; tiny humming vibrations beat against him. The reishi is restless, likely stemming from some very agitated Captain- and Vice-Captain-level souls.

_'If necessary, Renji, shut your eyes tight, but keep your heart wide open.'_

Lady Kuchiki's words play in a loop in his head. On bended knee—downed by a pain that he will never know—she spoke to him with such a calm conviction. The serenity of her visage never broke from her anguish. Her voice never wavered. She merely asked him to use his strength to protect her sister.

Before he took his leave, she handed him a small item. It was hard and wrapped in her silken handkerchief. She told him that he may need it to convince her husband.

She didn't tell him  _what_ , exactly,  _it_  is. She didn't tell him how it could convince Captain Kuchiki to help him. She didn't tell him how the shield worked, even though she was the one who procured it. She didn't tell him  _anything_. As usual, words came at a premium.

He doesn't need to know. He's made miracles happen on even less information. Operating on nothing but a hope and a prayer is just how it's  _done_  in the Gotei 13. It is a work-related hazard, he tells himself. It doesn't make Rukia's imminent demise, Captain Aizen's death, or the entire Seireitei turning on itself better. It just  _is_.

But,  _dammit_ , he's trying to make it better. Although, he reckons they  _all_  are trying to make the situation better in their own way. Captain and Commander Yamamoto is trying to hold the ranks together through strict disciplinary measures. Captain Hitsugaya is trying to solve the mystery of Aizen's death even if that means endeavoring to exterminate the  _drifters_  on the basis of some very sketchy intelligence. Both Captain Kuchiki and Lady Kuchiki are trying to protect and preserve their family.

And, he? He just wants to save his friend. No matter what.

He simply  _must_.

"Abarai."

In a plume of dust and debris, Renji comes skidding to a halt. His heart comes skidding to a hard stop. His thoughts go skidding into dark oblivion. As he suspected, just before he has the chance to reach the winding path to Sōkyoku Hill proper, his hopes are temporarily dashed.

Feeling the contents of his stomach drop, he turns. His body moves slow and leaden. His jaws clench, and his grip on the shield slackens. The cracking sound of wood meeting slick stone fills his ears.

"Captain Kuchiki," he murmurs, summoning his courage as he meets his rival's gaze.

"The Shihōin shield?" Recognition softens the captain's voice, but, at the question's end, Renji has a sinking feeling Kuchiki has discerned the cause and purpose.

"How  _audacious_." The word falls from the captain's lips like a curse.

Renji flinches. "Lady Kuchiki," he begins, not quite sure where he is going with  _that_  sentence. Should he explain the situation? Appeal to the Captain's love of his wife? Tell Captain Kuchiki that Lady Kuchiki approves of this scheme?

The opportunity to complete his thoughts, however, never manifests. Instead, Captain Kuchiki swiftly intervenes with a stoic, "No doubt."

Ah, he  _knows_. Or, at least, Lady Kuchiki's involvement does not surprise Kuchiki. But does this discovery draw his ire or his sympathies? Captain Kuchiki is a hard one to read, and Renji doesn't have the time to take lessons.

Captain Kuchiki lifts his head. The morning sunlight shines brilliantly in his long black locks and illuminates his pale cheeks. There is a flickering in the captain's eyes, one that immediately catches Renji off guard. For a brief moment, Renji thinks he witnesses something vulnerable—some ineffable emotion—resonate in the captain's eyes. It vanishes as quickly as it appears, however. Likely, it has been banished forever. But, it gives Renji an opening, an opening he is all too eager to take.

"The Lady gave me this." Renji's voice is calm and strident. He's got this. Even if he doesn't. Lady Kuchiki gave him this instruction, and Lady Kuchiki should  _know_ , right? She's never led him astray before. "She said you'd know. That you'd understand." Not once does Renji dare to lower his gaze. Instead, he fixes Captain Kuchiki with a stern look as he reaches into his pocket. When Renji withdraws his hand, a small parcel wrapped in red silk rests in palm.

Captain Kuchiki's eyes widen. It is slight, almost imperceptible, but Renji catches the look. It is apprehension. No, it is worse than apprehension. It is  _fear_.

But, what does Captain Kuchiki possibly have to  _fear_?

Smoothly, the captain plucks the item from Renji's hand. His movements are so quick, so decided, that Renji does not realize Kuchiki has retrieved the parcel until he feels the weight in his hand lighten.

Quick nimble fingers loosen the ties and peel back the silk, exposing a rectangular piece of wood. A dark black substance stipples the grain. Captain Kuchiki examines it with his keen steely gray stare. His brows knit together, and his lips part at whatever discovery he has made.

Renji, however, doesn't have a fucking clue what a dirty piece of wood has to do with  _anything_. Seems really strange. Everything seems really strange, though. He has long since inured to the sensation of paralyzing ignorance; it just comes with the territory.

Catching Renji in that stern gray stare of his, Byakuya asks, "Did she tell you where she found this?"

"No." It is simple, but it is honest. Lady Kuchiki kept the specifics to herself, probably thinking her husband's mighty powers of inductive reasoning would suffice.

"I see," Kuchiki murmurs cryptically to himself. He doesn't like the conclusion that he has drawn. In true noble fashion, however, the captain promptly decides  _not_  to share his thoughts.

Not that Renji particularly cares. Even if Captain Kuchiki had shared his conclusion, there is a sizable probability that Renji wouldn't understand. All Renji really wants right now is to make haste. Rukia's execution isn't going to wait for  _him_ , especially since  _he_  should be in  _jail_.

"Come, Abarai," Captain Kuchiki mutters to himself. His voice is dark and rich, like the summer air at midnight.

Before Renji can ask what he means, Byakuya gives him a quiet but charged sidelong stare. "Let us save Rukia."

Renji gapes at this.  _What the fuck just happened?_  His brain goes numb, and his jaw nearly hits the floor.  _Did that— did that really just happen?_  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Renji's hands shoot over to the shield, and, with effusive eagerness, he rushes after Captain Kuchiki.

* * *

Rukia stands with head hung low, eyes trained on the ground, and breath hitched in her throat. Peace and repose stubbornly elude her. She reaches for it. She really does, but her fingers strain against the ropes of a burning fury. No matter the effort, she cannot grasp her resolve. Her heart is too tattered, too embattled, too  _much_. Perhaps that was always her problem. Perhaps she has always been  _too much_ , always looking to the horizon, always hoping for something better, never really satisfied with the way things  _are_. Hope—no matter how thin or futile—proved to be an effective blanket in which to clothe herself, and she never once thought her hopefulness to change the situation to be a bad thing. That is… _until now_.

Complacency got you killed or worse in Inuzuri.

Complacency got you scolded or worse in the esteemed House of Kuchiki.

Complacency got  _everyone_ killed in the field in the Gotei 13.

If you aren't trying to improve yourself and your condition, you just aren't living. Or, so she once thought.

She must've thought  _wrong_.

Trying to improve the situation is what landed her in jail, then solitary confinement, and now death. She can't help but feel equal parts angry, depressed, hopeless, and shamed. The latter of which—Shameovania—is where she spent most of her time during her incarceration.

Oh, the shame that she has wrought. Shame upon her division? Check. Shame upon her family? Check. Shame upon her dearest friends? Check, check, and check.

She doesn't blame them—her friends, her colleagues, her family—if they  _despise_  her at this point.

 _Sister, Brother, Renji, Ichigo, Captain Ukitake, Inoue, Ishida, Sado, Yamada, the Shiba_ ….  _What a burden I've become_.

She swallows. Hard. The lump in her throat, however, only grows more agitated from her futile attempt to wet her parched mouth. It is no use. Nothing is going the way that she had envisioned. From the moment she met Ichigo, things went haywire, as if her fate had been stolen from her. To think how innocuous it all began. How many times had she been to the World of the Living? At least a few hundred by the time of their fated meeting. The task at hand didn't  _seem_  all that difficult either. Yet, reflecting upon it, Rukia knows she would not have done a single thing differently.

 _How stupid is that?_  she thinks to herself. The observation enters head with a razor-sharp edge, tearing apart what little chance she had at stringing together her composure. But, at the very least, she is honest with herself, even at the end.

_No. I would've made sure they wouldn't have come._

There. She would've done  _that_  differently. How? She isn't so sure. Ichigo et al. seem pretty stubborn, especially Ichigo. Maybe she would have hobbled him, put him in traction. That probably would've done it, she thinks to herself.

Glancing at the crowd that has assembled to witness the execution, Rukia's brows knit together.  _So few_ , she observes.  _So few have come_.

What does that mean?

Only representatives from the First, Second, Third, Seventh, Ninth, and Tenth have arrived. All the other Captains and Vice Captains are absent.

_Even Brother…._

Her heart strangles at her Brother's vacant place. A thousand reasons assail her mind as to why he has decided to forgo the execution:  _Is he too angry, too humiliated, too saddened, too—_

"Your final words, Rukia Kuchiki?" The Captain-Commander's low rumbling voice shakes her like an earthquake, freeing her from her mind's barbed thoughts.

It takes Rukia a second to piece together her composure, and, when she thinks she has comported herself sufficiently enough, only a small quivering voice escapes her, "Yes. I have only one request. Please, spare the intruders." Her voice picks up strength at the end of her request.

"As you wish. The drifters will be located and returned to their rightful place in due course," the Captain-Commander promises and bows his head.

"Thank you. I am eternally grateful for your charity." Rukia lowers her head, deep and reverent. Part of her prays the Captain-Commander will keep this oath to her. It is her dying request, after all. How cruel would it be to lie to a woman situated upon the precipice of death?

But, part of her—the rough Inuzuri slumdog part of her that she keeps closer to her heart than anyone will ever know—strongly suspects Yamamoto is lying. She is a criminal in the eyes of the law. What duty does he or the Gotei 13 have to uphold a criminal's last wish? The courtesy of an easy death is all she deserves, and, likely, it is all he will accord her.

"Release the seal," the Captain-Commander's voice is booming and forceful, like the winds that usher in a typhoon.

And, just like that, the ground seemingly pulls out from under her. The ropes that tie her wrists disintegrate, and she is lifted high, high, high into the air. With arms stretched out and legs dangling, she stares down into the crowd below her. She feels small and exposed. The stones that keep her poised in the air, if they moved only a little further, could rip her asunder. There is no need for such a spectacle. There is no need for  _any_  of this.

With brows furrowed and with heavy heart, she bows her head. Her fate is sealed. There is nothing that anyone can do for her, now. She entered this strange land as a burden, and it is only fitting that she will die a burden. She will be incinerated in only a few moments. Her energy will burst forth from her body and flow into the ether. All that will be left is a disembodied darkness, a simple oblivion.

Resigning herself to this fate, Rukia prays for her family and her friends. A silent gratitude fills her heart, conquering the fear that once consumed her. She begins her reflection with Renji and their ragtag tribe of orphans. Time-traveling through her memories, she, then, thanks her sister and brother; their generosity improved her life exponentially. She would never have become a worthy Shinigami without their care and approval. Then, there is Vice Captain Shiba, whose kindness has inspired her both as a Shinigami and as person. And, Ichigo, whose rescue attempt was completely  _futile_ … but heart-warming nonetheless.

 _The dolt_.

Feeling the heat of the halberd's transformation into the flaming Kikōō, Rukia lifts her head into the scalding warmth of the fire. How ironic for an ice wielder to suffer a fiery death, she thinks darkly to herself as she eyes the flames.

Preparing for her descent into nothingness, Rukia exhales a long breath and waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

Hesitant, she peeks out through one eye.

_Ichigo?_

She could've sworn she felt his presence. But, she can hardly believe the sight of the little mortal teenager holding back the giant firebird.

In a flash, her heart stops, her eyes widen to the size of saucers, and panic sets in. No. This cannot be! "Ichigo!" she screams. "Get the hell out of here!"

"And here I was expecting a  _hero's welcome_!" he teases her with a cocked brow as he slings his massive Zanpakutō over his shoulder.

"You're gonna get killed!" she shouts over the roaring din of the fire. "Don't you see all the Captains down there! They're gonna rip you to shreds! Leave, you idiot!"

"Leave?" he mocks her. "Leave you to  _that_? You'll die!" he declares as if she doesn't already know. He turns slightly to see the Kikōō as it rebounds, preparing for a retaliatory strike. This time, the bird appears to be launching a rushing maneuver.

Ichigo readies his sword, lurching down, and he grins at the bird's sheer audacity. "It's charging up," he murmurs, intrigued by the entity's dogged persistence. "Eh, let it come."

Rukia gapes at the boy's brand of shoulder-shrugging insouciance. "Are you daft? It is going to eviscerate you!" With that, Rukia thinks she has used unbelievable restraint. The firebird is going to annihilate the kid; it's going to tear him and her to a thousand tiny little pieces. They are both as good as dead. No matter what. Even if Ichigo somehow manages to fend off an entity with the strength of a thousand Zanpakutō, he still has the captains with which to contend, all of whom will make quick use of him.

"Leave, Ichigo!" she screams at the top of her lungs.

 _Absolutely no use_ , she thinks rather bitterly to herself. No yelling will deter the kid when he gets his mind set on something. Ordinarily, Rukia finds Ichigo's rigorous conviction admirable, but, right then, she is mortified. Fear flows through every vein and fiber in her body, blotting out her better senses.

With eyes wide open, Rukia holds her breath and prays Ichigo can do the impossible. He's impressed her—hell, he's  _astounded_ her—on several occasions. Maybe this is just another  _one of those_  moments? Hopefully.

She has her doubts.

At the last moment, she decides that she can't bear the agony of watching him immolate, and she winces. She turns her head, but she stubbornly keeps a half-lidded eye trained on the proceedings. She is just about to cringe when she sees the ropes wrap around the Kikōō's neck.

_What the hell?_

She doesn't say the words aloud. It's hard enough to hear her own thoughts above the crackling explosion of flames, but she does see the ropes, and she watches in utter shock as the ropes pull the beast down.

Ichigo doesn't question this  _oddity_. He takes it for what it is—an  _opportunity_. Without a moment's hesitation, he moves onto Step 151 of his playbook, as if he had planned this  _happy_   _coincidence_ from the beginning of his invasion. Perched on the stand, he steadies his blade.

Following the fluttering of his robes, Rukia stares at him in wide-eyed wonder. "What the hell are you doing?" There is simply too much barraging her poor fraying mind at the moment to care for ladylike manners and decorum.

"I'm going to break this pole," he says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Well, it is pretty  _obvious_  what his intentions are, but she's still reeling, and when she reels she launches into an upbraiding round of Socratic questioning. "You think it wise? I mean did you see all of your opponents down there? It's not like we're going to escape unnoticed!"

Ichigo takes pause at her word. Perhaps he doesn't have this all planned out…. Go figure. This realization suddenly inspires zero faith in Rukia.

Staring up and to the side, he considers her scathing observation with a pensive glance. "Huh. Yeah, well, we're gonna have to be quick I suppose."

"We're going to  _out run_  them?" Color her skeptical. Deeply skeptical.

"We'll beat them up and  _then_  out run them."

"What?" Is he  _mad_?

Ichigo responds with an impish grin.

He  _is_  mad and a little  _too confident_  about this newly revised plan for her liking.

Before she can lob another protest his way, he summons a concentrated wave of power, and he plunges his Zanpakutō through the Sōkyoku's pole. With lightning quick reflexes, he snatches her up, and the pair settles upon the broken and ragged section of the Sōkyoku's horizontal perch.

Rukia watches Ichigo's poised confidence in amazement. Is it sheer bravado? Power? Blinding stupidity? How can he seem so certain where she is not?

"You know, I'm not going to swoon from gratitude," she teases; a wry light sparks in her gaze. "So if you were expecting swooning, then you're going to be sorely disappointed."

Ichigo quirks a brow at this. "I had a feeling you were going to be ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" she exclaims. "What's there to be grateful about? You come waltzing in her and tear up the place!  _I'm_  supposed to be  _grateful_? I had an inner monologue prepared about death and  _everything_!"

Ichigo gives a slow long shake of his head. "Well, if I had known about your  _monologue_ —"

"I guess I can still salvage the monologue," she mutters darkly, staring into the rapidly thinning cloud of smoke. She is just beginning to make out the shapes and faces below. "Since we're going to be killed by the captains."

Ichigo scoffs at her lack of faith in his raw  _confidence_. "Like I said,  _Rukia_ , I'm going to beat them up, and, then, we're going to run away. You, Inoue, Ishida, Sado, Ganju, Hanatarou—all of us. We're going to escape together."

For a moment, Rukia almost believes him. If anyone could get them out of this mess, it's Ichigo. Of that, she is 100 percent certain.

"Are you two going to come down ever?"

Rukia's gaze drops to the ground.  _Can't be. He's still in jail_. "Renji!" she cries, shocked and overjoyed. A few hard blinks doesn't change the fact that her childhood friend is alive and well, standing tall and proud beside….

She nearly splutters on her own spit when she realizes what transpired with the Kikōō. "Brother," she murmurs, feeling incredibly embarrassed and shameful.

So, Brother and Renji saved them from the firebird. How  _mortifying_. Why would they do such a thing? Don't they realize she has been declared a criminal? There are repercussions for aiding and abetting a criminal. High crimes and misdemeanors! And, they are doing all this aiding and abetting in the middle of a well-armed military force, one that surely won't take mercy on them.

"Catch her!" Ichigo shouts as he lifts Rukia over his shoulder like she's a baseball.

"What a minute, Ichigo!" she begins, hoping she can talk him down from this very reckless maneuver.

"As I already told you, Rukia, you give bad advice." Conclusion: He should ignore her.

"You never told me that!" she argues for the sake of distraction.

"Ah, well, I've been meaning to," he says as he nonchalantly hurls her toward a very frantic Renji.

Rukia gives a high-pitched cry as she feels the force of several g's rush over her body. The only word echoing through her fear-soaked thoughts is  _idiot_. Indeed, Ichigo is an idiot for sending her into a freefall from such great heights. Her only hope is that Renji can break her fall. She's given up the hope that Renji can actually  _catch_  her. Her friend, while well-intentioned, doesn't always have the best  _timing_.

This occasion is no different.

Renji, however, proves to be an effective cushion as the two collide in a cloud of dust and soot. "You idiot!" Renji calls to Ichigo, wheezing and clearly rattled. "What if I hadn't been there?"

"Take her away, Abarai."

Rukia stares up into her brother's back. The thick black lines forming the symbol for "six" hold her gaze for a few breathless moments. The contours of his shoulders are even, but she knows he's prepared for the inevitable onslaught. "Flee," he states in a cool tenor.

How he manages to keep a level head in the ensuing chaos boggles her mind. She truly envies her brother's ability to maintain his serenity even in the darkest of hours. It is a skill.

Renji gives a nodding bow of his head, and, without a word, the two go sailing through the air. The wind fills Rukia's ears, blocking out  _most_  of the noise of swords clanking and the yelling of commands. The last thing she can remember hearing is Suì-Fēng's very clamorous order for the Vice Captains to waylay them.

Brother, however, won't let that happen, she thinks. His positioning suggested that his purpose was to buy them some time, and a few Vice Captains were not going to overwhelm him.

"Can you tell what's happening?" Rukia asks, staring into the side of Renji's neck as he guides them away from the flurry of danger.

"They're battling," he replies.

"Ichigo?" she asks, unable to fully access her abilities in her weakened state.

"Alive."

"Brother?"

"Alive."

She exhales a long breath. Her worries begin to diminish for a few seconds before picking up again. Her newest concern? How long Renji's stamina will hold up. She has no doubt that her friend is very fit to be a Vice Captain, and his flash-step, while not the fastest or flashiest, is reliable. But, even Renji has his limits. They cannot run in circles for eternity. She wonders if they can maintain these speeds for fifteen minutes, let alone  _hours_. Not that she's keeping track, and she has better sense than to ask and frighten him. Likely, he isn't thinking about such things. No, his thoughts are laser-focused on one thing, and that one thing is survival.

Sensing danger before his mind can fully compute its purpose or source, Renji lithers to a halt. Keeping Rukia secured against his chest, he shifts his weight to his right leg. A good choice, Rukia thinks as she remembers Renji likes to burst forth using his right leg.

"Captain Tōsen?" her friend's apprehension is crystal clear.

"Abarai and Kuchiki," Tōsen begins in a calm, cordial cadence, "how fortuitous." Without preamble, the captain unfurls a long white ribbon.

Rukia has a sinking feeling that this meeting is not fortuitous. Not at all.

* * *

Byakuya's surveys the field.

Suì-Fēng began her roaring rampage of destruction with the hapless members of the Thirteenth who made the poor decision to stand behind their Vice Captain. That rampage, however, was quickly interrupted by Yoruichi Shihōin, and the two have been skirmishing ever since.

Rukia's human friend found a worthy opponent in the Tenth's Captain. The two's reiatsu threaten to overtake the field at times, with the human's spiritual energy swelling and surging at erratic intervals. There is definitely something  _special_  about that kid. What it is? Byakuya does not have the time to draw any learned conclusions.

Strangely, both Captain Ichimaru and Captain Tōsen have seemingly  _disappeared_. While such behavior is not aberrant for the Third's Captain, who picks and chooses which assignments best suit his whimsy, Captain Tōsen is usually a model superior officer.

Byakuya's opponent? It started with the Kenpachi, who saw this as the prime opportunity to settle the "score" between them. (As to what that "score" might entail, Byakuya can only hazard a guess, one that would involve the Kenpachi's bloodlust and a few barbed comments about boorish behavior on his part.)

Byakuya, however, quickly found a way to divert the bloodthirsty man's ambition to  _another_  more  _useful_  endeavor. Unfortunately, that  _other_  endeavor is pacifying the Captain-Commander for as long as it takes. Byakuya has no delusions that either one of them  _could_  down the Captain-Commander.

The Kenpachi, however, seems to think it is a distinct possibility.

 _What a fool_.

"If we keep running," the Eleventh's captain begins, "how will he catch us?"

Byakuya represses the urge to scold the brute for his sheer ignorance. The point isn't to actually  _fight_  the Captain-Commander. Even together, it is a losing proposition. But, the Kenpachi is correct: They cannot run forever. First, the Kenpachi is too slow. Second, the Captain-Commander's stamina is legendary. Even if Byakuya could out maneuver Yamamoto—wishful thinking at best—the man's raw energy would wear him down eventually.

Feeling the inevitable begin to bear down upon them, Byakuya stops cold and braces for the surge of reiatsu. The Kenpachi remains completely immune from the concussion blast of energy barreling toward them; it is as if he's standing in a meadow on a particularly breezy day.

It is a pity that such unbridled power has chosen such a dim vessel, Byakuya thinks to himself as he observes his ill-matched comrade.

"You should remove the patch," Byakuya's voice is low and taunting.

Kenpachi fixes Byakuya with his one good eye. "Oh?"

Byakuya refuses the temptation to reply. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on the horizon. Just as he suspects. The Captain-Commander emerges. His gait is ambling but strong. He moves with great deliberation and even greater purpose.

"It has been such a long time," Yamamoto begins, "since I've witnessed a Kenpachi and a Kuchiki standing shoulder to shoulder on the field of battle."

The circumstances must have been dire to require such a collaboration, Byakuya thinks to himself. The Kenpachi come from a long line of criminals and barbarians, sometimes both at once. It is a far cry from the refined nobility of the Kuchiki.

"Not in a Thousand years," Yamamoto continues, "at least."

A thousand years ago? Byakuya wracks his brain for a brief moment. Oh, yes. They were at war  _then_. A blood war with the Quincy. Desperate times. Desperate measures. Couldn't be helped then.

"Unfortunately, both of you pale in comparison to your predecessors."

Byakuya takes umbrage at this. His lines, once so set and regal, go aflutter, but he catches his shudder and  _stifles_  it.

While the Kuchiki were represented by particularly skilled swordsmen during the war, he would hardly think his forefathers' skill greatly exceeded his own. After all, the Kuchiki lost two clan heads during the war.

Kenpachi gives a low rolling chuckle at Yamamoto's comment. Byakuya isn't quite sure whether the Kenpachi is  _amused_  at the comment itself or if he is merely  _excited_  at the prospect of dueling with Yamamoto once again.

Either way, it doesn't much matter to Byakuya. He'd gladly give the Kenpachi the right-of-way for several reasons. First among those reasons is the Kenpachi has already battled Yamamoto. Upon entering the ranks, Yamamoto personally administered a physical test to the current Kenpachi. Therefore, Kenpachi has a general idea of how to proceed with this particular opponent. This is assuming, of course, the Kenpachi is capable of  _learning_ , which is a large and perhaps  _optimistic_  assumption.

"Come on, Captain-Commander." Kenpachi readies his sword. "I'm ready." The emphasis is clearly on  _I_.

Byakuya gives Kenpachi a scathing side-eye. He knows the rumors—that the Kenpachi cannot summon his Zanpakutō's shikai let alone its bankai, and bankai is surely necessary to stay in a match with the Captain-Commander for longer than five seconds.

"Very well," Yamamoto states with some ado. "I expected this sort of behavior from a Captain of the Eleventh," he mutters, drawing his sword, "but I never thought I'd see the day where a  _Kuchiki_  practiced open defiance."

Reflexively, Byakuya's hand tightens over the hilt of his sword. He wouldn't deny feeling some modicum of contrition for his actions, and he is certain his forefathers would be very displeased with how he turned out, but he can't abide the injustice of allowing one of his own to forfeit her life for  _nothing_. No, doing nothing when there is treachery afoot is  _unjust._  Sometimes, the rules are wrong. Sometimes, the men whose charge is to interpret those rules are wrong or, worse,  _dead_. When justice rings hollow from its usual sources, then the only mode of action is defiance.

But,  _are_ his actions insubordinate?

He isn't convinced.

"Defiance is meaningless in a land where the law has been slain." Byakuya lifts his head as the words, quiet and low, roll off his tongue. This response garners a quizzical look, and Byakuya continues. "The members of the Central 46 are dead. Whatever authority they once wielded is being used as a  _weapon_  against the Gotei 13. I suspect very strongly that your protégés are uncovering the duplicity as we speak. "

Yamamoto stops. It is but a microsecond, but the intense burst of molecules that once charged the expansive area stop. The wind's howl fades. The heat that once roiled them diminishes. Everything becomes  _still_  and eerily  _silent_.

The eye of the hurricane, Byakuya thinks and glances skyward.

"What did you say, Kuchiki?" The words hit Byakuya with the stinging force of a leather bullwhip to the cheek. With that question, the wind begins to pull at their captain's haori, but the squall is not as violent as before. If possible, the atmosphere almost feels  _contemplative_.

"The wise men and judges are dead." To make his point clear, Byakuya removes the evidence provided courtesy of his wife, and he tosses it to the Captain-Commander. "My cousin's number, bloodied and stained."

Yamamoto examines the grain and smells the wood. "It doesn't prove anything." There is a look in Yamamoto's eye that belies his inner conflict. In all likelihood, the Captain-Commander finds the evidence worthy of an inquiry at the very least, and, under normal circumstances with  _compliant_  subordinates, the Captain-Commander would arrange for such an investigation. Now, however, Yamamoto has his back to the proverbial wall. His heels are sunk deep into the ground, and he will not concede his moral high ground even when logic dictates otherwise.

"Who cares?" Kenpachi declares, grinning madly. "Let's fight!"

Byakuya braces for the next swell of reiatsu, but, before the Captain-Commander can decide, a loud booming announcement stops everyone on the field, dead.

* * *

"What the hell?" Renji stares uncomprehending into the whirlwind of dust and spiritual particles. With lungs full of grit and dirt, he expels a few dry, hacking coughs. The pungent smell of sulfur slides down his throat, setting the sensitive lining of his trachea on  _fire_.

Clasped tightly in his arms is Rukia, and he recovers just in time to remember to spare her from a nasty spill. He's not letting her go. The warmth of her body reminds him of his purpose: To keep her protected.

Yet, none of this makes any goddamn sense. Have they fallen into some trap? Is Captain Tōsen an enemy? What, exactly, is happening?

Renji stares out onto Sōkyoku Hill. The broken stand juts up from the ground and kisses the sky. The earth is marked and dimpled from the skirmishes alluded to but avoided. He is clearly  _seeing_  the execution grounds, but why? They had been running for close to twenty minutes before they crossed Tōsen. They were nowhere near their point of origin just seconds ago.

So, what gives? Why would Captain Tōsen wrap them up in some spell only to bring them back to the very place where they were trying to escape?

"Oh, little Renji." The voice that settles over them is instantly familiar. It is smooth and rich, like cool handspun silk. Yet, Renji starts so hard that his whole body shakes under the swift muscular lockdown.

 _It can't be_ , he thinks to himself, trying very hard to convince his eyes that what he is seeing is an illusion. But, he can't shake the feeling that the man standing before him is not an apparition. It is truly Captain Aizen. He is alive, flesh and bone and hair and glasses. He is just as Renji remembers him, except now the right lens of his glasses are shattered, and there is a rather nasty laceration that runs from his brow to his jaw. The wound is non-fatal, but it does seems  _out of place_  on the perpetually imperturbable Captain of the Fifth.

There is no doubt in Renji's mind that something is awry. Everything is awry. The treachery alluded to in Aizen's stare is thick, and it is  _devious_.

A strange electricity flows through Renji, readying every nerve and synapse just in case he needs to make a mad dash for it. "It," namely being the horizon, which is odd. This isn't the sensation that Renji usually associates with Captain Aizen. No, all of the captains command a certain amount of  _respect_ , but unrestrained fear? Not even the captain of the Eleventh inspires such levels of dread when he's at full capacity.

Something is deeply wrong.

Reflexively, Renji's arms tense around Rukia, and he adjusts her weight on his left thigh.

"Put down Rukia Kuchiki, Renji, and step aside." Despite Captain Aizen's placid expression and tenor, Renji cannot help but hone in on the implicit threat undulating slightly beneath the request.

"What?" Renji blinks back his state of disarray, but only more confusion follows on its heels. "I don't understand. You're dead." Correction. The good captain is  _supposed_  to be dead. Yet, there he stands. Perfectly, perplexingly  _alive_.

"How ridiculous, Renji. I am clearly living. You have always been such a difficult one to  _tame_."

Huh? Not that Aizen ever took the time to  _tame_  him, whatever the fuck that means. So, how would he know? Guess it explains why Aizen did not select him for the Fifth right out of the gate. He is  _untamable_. But, if he's not an easy one to  _tame_ , then what of Kira and Momo? Did Aizen really just imply his closest friends are little more than mindless lapdogs?

"Now,  _little Renji_ , put Miss Kuchiki down and go on your way."

Renji shakes his head.  _Hell, no_. No one tells  _him_  to put the girl down and run away, especially not in the creepy, conspiratorial tone that Aizen brandishes. Hell, not even if Aizen was requesting  _nicely_.

Continuing to slowly shake his head, Renji stares Aizen squarely in the eye. "I refuse." If Aizen wants Rukia, he's going to have to go through Renji to get her. Period.

Instinctively, Renji's hand grips the hilt of his sword. His palm is sweaty and slick, but he can feel the burn of the wrapping of his Zanpakutō as it presses its design into his flesh. He is prepared for the draw, and he will suffer the battle if it means protecting Rukia.

Gin Ichimaru, who has been uncharacteristically  _quiet_  and who has gone undetected until  _now_ , pushes the handle of his blade forward with the joint of his thumb. A sliver of shiny metal catches in the bright afternoon sun, and Aizen turns to Gin. With an elegant arch of his head, Aizen stays his co-conspirator. "No need, Gin." Aizen then returns his attention to Renji. "You are truly a dog with a bone, Renji." He sighs lightly to himself as he reaches for his Zanpakutō. "If I must, I will  _force_  you to unhand the girl by divesting you of your  _limbs_."

Renji barely sees it. The captain is just too quick. Quicker than the Kenpachi. Quicker than Rukia's brother. But, whether Renji saw it or not, it doesn't matter.

He is cut to the quick. Aizen's sword slashed him to the core, like a warm knife through butter.

"Renji!" Rukia cries. Perhaps she has been crying his name this entire time. When this particular iteration of his name falls from her lips, Renji hears how ragged her voice has become.

Renji plants his feet into the ground, where he remains. He has a job to do. He has a friend to protect. He will keep to his feet until his dying breath, dammit! He didn't crawl all the way from the slums to the Academy to the Eleventh and, finally, to his Vice Captainship only to be felled by a traitor. Hell, no!

"How unexpected, Renji." Aizen is clearly amused at the boy's sheer determination. "You parried my attack. My how you've come into your potential. However, that was mere  _child's play_. I repeat: Step aside,  _Renji_ , and leave the girl to me. I'd really hate to see all that talent go to  _waste_."

"Roar, Zabimaru!" Renji is quick to incite into his shikai. He gives no warning, and, while this appears to interest Aizen, the wild attack winds past its target. Renji, however, is stubborn, and he rebounds. This time, his attack lines up for a full-frontal collision with Aizen.

"How noble-minded, but, ultimately, futile." Aizen cocks his head to the side, and he gives a bored little huff. All it takes from the mighty captain is a finger to destroy the metal and cables of Zabimaru's shikai.

"I really did see promise in you, Renji. From the first of it—during your Academy days. You seemed so  _useful_. That is, until I learned of your most unfortunate association with Rukia and the Kuchiki clan. I knew then that you would always be impossible to adequately temper for my purposes."

Clenching Rukia protectively against his chest, Renji drops to a knee. Anger simmers in his amber-colored eyes, and he pants, seething. "For your  _purposes_?" His words are doused in a heavy coating of vitriol.

"Yes. You see, my initial selection was you, Izuru, and Momo. I thought the three of you would make perfect  _additions_  to Division Five. You were bellicose, true. Even in the Academy. But, I thought time and a firm hand would shape you into something truly magnificent. Then, I learned of your friendship with Rukia and your affiliation with the noble house of Kuchiki, and I knew then that nothing would ever change you. Your friends, however, they were so eager and well-meaning. They had good, honest upbringings. Perhaps, that was always your problem, little  _Renji._ There is something about a Rukon heritage that poisons the water; it makes a soul  _obstinate_."

Each muscle tightens. A fiery burn rips up his arms, spreads across his back, and moves double time down his legs until he is trembling. It is not fear that has him in its teeth; it is raw, unfettered  _anger_. He, his friends, and his commanders have all been  _used_. All of 'em were played.

And, Renji fucking  _hates_  feeling played.

Buckling under the tumult of his rancor, Renji grits his teeth and snaps a pointed, "Didn't you hear me, ya bastard? I'm never letting her go!"

Aizen swiftly counters Renji's feeble attack, but he appears rather taken aback at Renji's intensity. "How typical. Well, if you insist on being such a nuisance, then I have no other choice." Aizen raises his sword, preparing a finishing strike.

Renji's heart sinks, but resolve catches in his eyes. He isn't going down without a fight. A damn good one. Fearlessly, he readies his blade to defend him and his friend.

When the blade comes down, however, Renji sucks in a cool breath. Too cool. The air has turned frigid. He can see the condensation of his breath as he pants. Little smoky puffs escape him, curl out into the air, and eclipse his vision.

_Ichigo?_

Yes. Ichigo, indeed. The boy has blocked Aizen's killing stroke. But…. There is something  _more_  to this. What caused the sudden drop in temperature?

Reflexively, Renji's eyes dart up to find the whole Hill has been doused in ice. Cold, glimmering ice. The crystals pull the sunbeams and sparkle with the intensity of diamonds.

He immediately glances down and into his arms. Rukia appears just as surprised as he  _feels_  so he can rule out her as the ice wielder. But, if not Rukia, then….

The conclusion hits Renji like a ton of bricks to the head. "Captain Hitsugaya?" He blinks a few times, hoping it will clear the insanity from his eyes. It doesn't. The boy captain stands with furrowed brow and lips set in a deep frown.

 _How impossible,_  Renji thinks. But, it isn't impossible. If Renji's senses were correct, Ichigo and Hitsugaya were dueling only a few moments ago. Hitsugaya likely believing Ichigo and friends were behind everything—from Rukia's scheduled execution to Aizen's death—that was the story, at least. Rumor and innuendo painted Ichigo in shades of criminality. Without knowing the truth, Hitsugaya battling Ichigo was just good sense on the captain's part.

But, something must've happened for the pair to have broken from their acrimonious state. There was some sort of announcement, Renji thinks. He didn't have the chance to hear it at the time. But, maybe the announcement declared Aizen a traitor?

It would certainly seem that way given the sudden cold front. Hitsugaya is not fucking around, and neither is Ichigo.

Getting his feet under him, Renji stands. Rukia remains cradled in his arms. His hand is at the back of her head, pressing her body tightly against his chest. She is uncharacteristically  _still_  and  _quiet_ , but he ignores these things as just good fortune.

Ichigo turns and gives Renji a sly sidelong glance. "You look a little broken up given your only task was to take the girl and run. Rukia that heavy?"

Renji scoffs so hard he nearly chokes on his own spit.

Ichigo smirks at this. "Looks like you need my help."

Renji narrows his eyes, and his features contort into a look of 'fuck off.' "You implying something, kid? You don't look so good yourself."

Ichigo is just about to launch into a tirade of how  _ungrateful_  both Renji and Rukia are when a blast of ice comes hurtling their way. Ichigo and Renji quickly evade the attack, landing a few meters apart.

Renji's gaze follows the line of artic death to find Hitsugaya and Aizen fighting only a short distance away. For a flicker, he catches Ichigo's attention, and the two exchange a solemn nod. Nary a word is exchanged. There is simply no time for proper planning.

"Rukia, you think you can stand?" Renji asks, voice dark and low.

Rukia glances up at him. Her blue eyes are wide, and concern shimmers in her stare. "What are you planning to do, Renji?" He knows she is in a mood to brook no schemes. Her voice is soft but pointed.

"The only thing we can do: Stop Aizen." He felt so confident  _before_  the words just sort of bubbled up. After hearing his own shaky voice and seeing her incredulous expression, he feels less than certain the plot that he and Ichigo baked up on a nod is very prudent.

Yet, he places her feet to the ground all the same, and she stands. Her legs prove sturdy. She doesn't wobble or tilt, but she looks shaken. Renji isn't sure if it is because she is truly worried or if the gravity of the situation is just beginning to bear down upon her.

"We'll make it, Rukia. I promise."

It is a lie, through and through. He knows it. She knows it. He knows she knows it. But, it's all he has to assuage the thoughts that she doesn't express with words.

"You two better, Renji," her voice crashes over him like a siren's warning.

* * *

After Nanao Ise's announcement, Byakuya does not even think to give a proper or appropriate farewell before departing. Etiquette is left for better times and situations, and he very much doubts Yamamoto cares at this point. No, the Captain and Commander of the Gotei 13 has many  _greater_  concerns as it were. Namely, locating Aizen and anyone who has aided and abetted the true criminal of the hour.

Normally, Byakuya would be of a mind to assist in the hunt for retribution, but, right then, his primary concern is Rukia. If it was Aizen who used the Central 46's authority for his own purposes, then those purposes include Rukia. But, why Rukia? What power does she hold for Aizen? The Captain of the Fifth has never shown any interest in his sister. Not once. And, Rukia surely is not in collusion with the traitor. He would know if she were.

Triangulating her position, Byakuya rushes toward the pulse of her spiritual energy. It does not take long for him to arrive at Sōkyoku Hill, which is a very strange place for her to be. Had he not witnessed Abarai flee with her before the battle of the units commenced? Why would they return to the execution site?

 _They would not return_ , he decides upon reflection. The answer is pure, simple, and startlingly accurate once he steps foot on the blighted land. His descent smooth and soft. His reiatsu goes unnoticed for a few crucial moments, but a few crucial moments is all he needs to get a handle on the situation.

Captains Hitsugaya and Komamura have been lain to waste. All that remains of the two captains are their bloodied and battered bodies, laying in supine position. Renji and the human teenager have also fallen. Renji is splayed prostrate on the ground. Red, red, red pools around him.

The boy, however, strains to lift his head. Fear glazes his eyes, and sweat streams down his face.

Byakuya follows the human's eye-line to find Captain Aizen holding Rukia up by the red collar that circles her neck. A few paces to Aizen's right stands Gin Ichimaru. To Aizen's left is Kaname Tōsen. Neither man appears particularly distressed by Aizen's behavior, and, judging by the fact that they are both standing, Byakuya strongly suspects that Tōsen and Ichimaru are Aizen's confederates.

Without hesitation, Byakuya releases his bankai. The bladed cloud of petals sing through the air, diverging into three tributaries. The first two currents of steel blossoms create a barrier between Aizen and his minions. Gin's smile slips at the realization that he has been captured in a white haze, but he rebounds with a quirk of his lips. A look of resignation marks his features, but he doesn't seem perturbed. Indeed, he appears almost relieved.

Byakuya does not have the time to question Gin's motives. Instead, he directs the remainder of his attack toward Aizen. The goal is not to defeat the once esteemed captain. No, Byakuya is practical to a fault. If Hitsugaya, Komamura, Abarai, and the child could not rally enough energy to stay Aizen's efforts, then he questions his ability to do any better.

Right then, his only goal is to free his sister from that vile soul's clutches.

Aizen smiles dimly at Byakuya's attempt. "How valiant, Byakuya. Coming to rescue your sister? I'm sure your  _wife_  would be overjoyed."

Byakuya's eyes narrow at the hard emphasis Aizen places on the word "wife." The muscles in his jaw shift and clench under his skin, but he pushes his doubt aside. It is a ploy, he tells himself. Aizen is attempting to bait him, and the bait is poor. Hisana is alive. Abarai would have told him otherwise. Abarai would not have left her in peril.

_Would he?_

Doubt, however, is a pervasive thing. Like a black fog, it begins to grow in his mind, blanketing his thoughts.

He reaches out to feel for his wife's reiatsu. A dull flickering enters his mind and sets him on edge. Like a weak flame dancing on a wax candle, it blinks against the air until it dies, until he cannot detect any part of her essence.

"Don't." The voice is ragged and broken, like shattered glass. It grabs Byakuya's attention, dragging it to the fallen Abarai, whose gaze is stubbornly locked on Byakuya. "Don't listen to him." The Vice Captain's eyes slip shut, but he forces the words through his parched throat, "Close your eyes, Captain, and rely on your heart—"

 _Close your eyes. How peculiar_.  _A riddle?_

Why would Abarai take to speaking in riddles? The Vice Captain is nothing short of  _direct_  at all times. Obfuscation is not Abarai's bailiwick.

 _Close your eyes_ , Byakuya's mind recalls the words. Perhaps it is not a cipher. Perhaps Abarai  _is_  giving him a command.

In wide-eyed realization, the meaning of Abarai's words perforates his confusion.

Aizen's shikai casts a powerful hypnosis on its target. Likely, the only way to combat the technique is blindness; this would explain Tōsen's defection. Aizen would need the captain if he is disability immunizes him against Kyōka Suigetsu's effects.

But, willingly closing your eyes while locked in a conflict with Aizen? Byakuya is not so sure this is the most prudent mode of attack.

Reading the lines of Byakuya's expression with great ease, Aizen gives a hearty chuckle. "It's too late, Byakuya. You're too late. You're analysis is too late." He releases his grip on Rukia's collar, and he lets her plunge to the ground.

The dull, slapping sound of flesh hitting gravel goes unacknowledged by Aizen as he reaches for his sword. "Abarai is correct. Blindness is the only method that can spare you against my initial release. But, again, it is too late for you, Byakuya. You're already infected. All of you are."

"I assume knowledge of your hypnosis is an inadequate remedy." The comment is purely rhetorical. There would be no reason for Aizen to share this information if Kyōka Suigetsu's status effect could be conquered so easily.

A cocksure smile lengthens Aizen's lips. "Indeed."

Never one to despair in the face of inevitable defeat, Byakuya quickly redresses his initial failings and uses his bankai as a shield to protect his sister.

Aizen cocks a brow at this. "So bold, Kuchiki. You are defenseless."

 _Not quite_.

In one fell swoop, the cavalry arrives.

Before Aizen can take the opening—an opening that would surely land Byakuya at the Fourth's MICU or worse—the captain falls prey to Suì-Fēng and Yoruichi. Suì-Fēng presses the edge of her blade to his neck, and Yoruichi apprehends Kyōka Suigetsu's hilt.

Three of the gatekeepers charge toward the seditious captains with Kūkaku Shiba and her band of trusted guardians hitching a ride on one of the gatekeeper's shoulders. Shortly after their arrival, Rangiku Matsumoto takes to the field and quickly subdues Gin Ichimaru, who succumbs without a second thought.

Rangiku's appearance ushers in the convergence of high-ranking and decorated members of the Gotei 13. Aizen and his treasonous confederates are surrounded. Yet, despite this, neither Aizen nor Gin nor Tōsen appear the least bit troubled.

It is as if they had planned this. All of it, from Yoruichi's appearance to Shūhei Hisagi's sword at Tōsen's neck. How could that be? Byakuya wonders, puzzled.

"It's over, Aizen!" Yoruichi mutters, voice bladed.

Aizen chuckles at the scene of commanding officers ready and willing to bring him to justice. How quaint, he must think. How terribly  _charming._

"I'm sorry that I cannot oblige your burning desire for justice to be restored, but it's time," Aizen states in a cold crisp tenor. Amusement dances in his eyes at the spectacle he's caused.

Yoruichi stares up at him, not understanding. Realization, however, storms the keep to her brain, and she quickly repurposes her plan. "Get away, Suì-Fēng!"

The sky tears, ripping the velvety blanket of blues and white. A beam from on high fixes the defectors. Gillians claw at the threads of sky, and, in their efforts, the hollows create an inky mess in the middle of the heavens.

 _Impossible_ , Byakuya thinks to himself, unable to discern what, exactly, is  _happening_.

The light that falls over the criminals begins to pull them toward the Gillians.  _Negation_ , Byakuya recalls. There is no use now. The captains are impervious to all attacks while trapped in the Menos Grande's beam.

Chaos ensues.

Justice demands to be dealt, and the members of the Gotei 13 do not take well to the idea of  _defeat_. To be candid, Byakuya is not immune to the intense visceral affront of helplessly watching as immorality is allowed to pass unheeded. He soothes his moral outrage with a thought, singular in nature. Justice will be reaped. Aizen and his minions will feel the cold sting of steel in time.

Byakuya calls his bankai to him, which releases a mortified Rukia. She rushes forward, torn between which of her friends to comfort first. Given Renji's poor condition, she skids to his side. Once she is pacified that her old friend will survive, she then scurries to the  _child_.

Byakuya turns at this sight. It needles him. What horrible bedfellows the sisters tend to keep. It must be an inherited trait. When the churning in his stomach proves untamable, he moves to Abarai.

"Captain," Renji murmurs. He attempts to lower his head out of respect, but Byakuya does not require it.

"My wife," Byakuya cuts Renji's submission short, "where is she?"

"Shihōin Manor."

Byakuya bows his head, careful to ensure Abarai knows of his grateful heart. "Thank you, Vice Captain." With a look, Byakuya summons a member of the Fourth to attend to Abarai's wounds. But, before Byakuya leaves Abarai's side, he pauses and gives the Vice Captain a long sidelong glance, "You fought valiantly, Abarai. Your Captain is a fortunate one."

Renji shudders against the implications of Byakuya's words. "Captain," he manages in a throaty gurgle. His call, however, does not reach Byakuya. His voice does not slice through the dark worries that hammer the Sixth's captain.

Even though the field has calmed—even though Aizen is gone—Byakuya cannot detect Hisana's signature. He has tried everything short of searching for her soul thread. What does this mean? he wonders. She has to be alive. Must be alive. He wills it to be so. But...

A fresh new emotional turbulence rages inside his chest.

The inference is irresistible. The possibility is inescapable. It is all too plausible. His own mother died in child birth, after all.

He leaves the execution site in a blur.

 


End file.
